Chapter 45
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
KIRILL
Slide, barrel, recoil spring, frame.
The Glock comes apart in my hands, each component laid out in perfect order on the safehouse table.
I’ve done this a thousand times, the movements automatic and familiar, requiring no thought.
Something that keeps my hands busy so my brain can’t spiral into the black hole it’s been circling since yesterday.
My father killed my mother.
The words don’t feel real yet. They sit in my chest like shrapnel I can’t dig out. I keep waiting for the rage to hit, for the grief, for something that makes sense. Instead, there’s only this cold, hollow certainty settling into my bones.
Fuck bratva loyalty. I’m putting a bullet in his head.
First, I deal with the Ghost. And once that threat is neutralized, I deal with Ruslan.
I haven’t told my brothers yet, or Katya. It’s too close to the mission. They need to stay focused, and dropping this on them now would fuck with their heads. But they deserve to know, even though I’m sure it will destroy them like it destroyed me.
It’s not that I looked up to my father. That respect died when I was thirteen, but I understood him, in a way.
Old-school bratva patriarch, raised in a world where duty came before everything, where sacrifice meant making hard choices. I didn’t agree with his methods, but I could see the cold logic behind them.
This, though? Murdering his wife, the mother of his newborn daughter, so he could force another woman into marriage? Watching his children grieve at her funeral, knowing he’d caused all this pain.
There’s no logic to that, only cruelty. He’s a narcissist who destroyed anyone who stood in the way of absolute power.
Revenge isn’t about justice. Nothing can bring my mother back. But it’s going to feel damn good to dispatch him to hell, where he belongs.
I reassemble the Glock, chamber a round, and check the safety before reaching for the Sig Sauer.
The ritual of preparing weapons before war has always calmed me—the precision, the focus, the proof that I’m ready for whatever comes next.
I move through my arsenal methodically: two backup pieces, spare magazines, the knife I keep strapped to my ankle. Each one cleaned, checked, loaded.
The safehouse we’re using as mission HQ is a mafia-owned three-story house outside of Long Island City.
Dinara and her team will be working out of here while the rest of us are in the field.
It’s perfect for what we need: reinforced doors and bulletproof windows, a sophisticated security system with motion sensors and cameras covering every angle, multiple exit routes including a tunnel to the adjacent building, and a generic location.
Dinara’s been holed up in a back room since we arrived this morning, building out her system with carefully selected tech people from each family.
Every time I’ve checked on her, she’s been surrounded by monitors and cables, her face lit by screens running code.
She looks excited, like she’s in her element.
We haven’t talked about last night. Barely had time to process that our mothers’ fates were intertwined in the ugliest of ways. But that’ll have to wait.
I check my watch. We need to leave for the final coordination meeting with the other heirs, but there’s something I want to do first.
I pull out my phone and call my sister.
“Kirill!” She answers right away, her voice pitched high with excitement. “Oh my god, I have the best news!”
The pure joy in her voice catches me off guard, loosens the knot in my chest. “Yeah? Tell me.”
“I got my acceptance letter! Juilliard wants me for their piano performance program!” She’s talking so fast the words tumble over each other. “Full scholarship, starting next fall. They said my audition was one of the strongest they’ve seen in years. Can you believe it?”
“Of course I can, Malen’kaya. You’re the very best,” I say and mean it. Pride swells in my chest.
“You have to say that. You’re my brother and that makes you biased.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. You’ve worked your ass off for this, Katya. You deserve it.”
“Thanks.” She sniffles, laughing. “Ugh, I’m crying. I’m being ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s a big deal.”
“I know and I am, but…” She sighs, and her voice drops, losing its spark. “If the marriage to Elio happens, there’s no way he’ll allow me to go to school.”
“It’s not happening so you don’t have to worry about that,” I insist.
The deal with my father doesn’t even matter anymore. I’ll be the pakhan soon and Katya will be free to live her life however she wants. But even with her freedom, I can’t give her back what was stolen. The chance to know her mother.
“Such confidence.” She pauses. “I hope that means you’re finally closing in on this Ghost?”
“We’re close,” I confirm. “But I still need you to stay put and be careful.”
As much as I hate that she has to live under the same roof as Ruslan, his compound is as secure as they come. Still, if shit goes down, Sasha—one of her bodyguards on my payroll—is under strict orders to get her out.
“On a lighter note,” she teases. “How is that beautiful wife of yours?”
A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything. “She’s good. Busy right now, but good.”
“I know your marriage is like, top-secret, and all that but you deserve to be happy, and she clearly makes you happy.” She pauses. “Does this mean I get to hang out with her again soon?”
“As soon as this shit is behind us, you and Dinara can hang out as much as you want. Do whatever girly stuff you’ve been missing out on. And…” I take a breath. “You can move to the city to attend school. With an army of bodyguards of course.”
“As long as they carry my books, I don’t care how many there are.” She lets out a shaky laugh. “I’m holding you to that. I want to get away from here and never look back. I’ve had enough of Ruslan to last me a dozen lifetimes.”
She has no idea.
“Speaking of our father,” I say, keeping my tone casual, “is he around much these days?”
“He’s been in meetings all afternoon. The Morozov family is still here for a while apparently.
I think he’s trying to finalize some deal he’s working on with them.
” She sighs. “He asked me to join them for dinner tonight. Varvara is so fucking boring. I can barely manage to stay awake through an entire meal.”
Ice runs through my veins. “Don’t get too close to them, Katya. They’re not people we can trust.”
“I know. Trust me, I get bad vibes.”
“Just hang tight a little longer,” I tell her. “And if anything feels off, anything at all, you call me immediately. Or you go straight to Sasha. Understood?”
Her voice softens. “I’ll be fine, Kirill. I know you’re worried, but I can handle Papa and his irritating guests for a few more days.”
A few more days. That’s all I need.
“I know you can. And I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re going to kill it at Juilliard.”
“Don’t jinx it,” she says, but happiness colors her voice. “But yeah, I’m pretty excited.”
“I love you, malen’kaya. Remember, stay close to Sasha.”
“Okay, now you’re really freaking me out.” She laughs, but there’s worry underneath it. “I love you too. And tell Dinara I said hi.”
“I will.”
I end the call and stare at the phone, the full weight of what’s ahead pressing down on me.
Arms wrap around me from behind. Dinara’s cheek rests against my back, her breath warm against the fabric of my shirt.
“Who was that you were talking to?” she asks quietly.
“Katya. She got into Juilliard.”
“That’s amazing.” She squeezes me tighter. “How is she?”
“Happy. Excited. I hate that I have to be the one to destroy that.”
She moves around to face me, her hands sliding up to cup my jaw. “The truth is always better than living a lie. Even when the truth fucking hurts.”
My throat thickens. “I know you’re right. And I’ll do what I have to.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and lingering, grounding me in this moment.
“We should probably head to the meeting,” she says after a moment.
“In a second.” I lift her onto the counter so we’re eye to eye, my hands bracketing her hips. “I sent Miron an update on everything this morning. He’s coming back to the US to look into your mother’s movements after she escaped Velour.”
A flash of vulnerability flickers across her features. “It’s weird. I hope she’s alive, but if she is, why didn’t she reach out? Was it too dangerous? Did she think I was better off not knowing?” She swallows hard. “I don’t know. I hope one day I get my answers.”
I pull her closer, tucking her head under my chin. “You will. We’ll find out the truth, one way or another.”
“There’s something else I’ve been thinking about,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s time I filled my father and Pavel in on everything. I wanted to keep the whole investigation secret but now... maybe it’s time they know.”
I brush a piece of hair back from her face. “How about this: once the Ghost is handled and my father is dead, I’ll fly to Moscow with you. We can talk to them together.”
She blinks in surprise. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Soon, this won’t be your problem anymore.”
My eyes never leave hers as I say, “You were never a problem, Dinara. Never.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just—” She stops, searching my face. “After we both get what we want, there’s no reason for us to stay together. I assumed we’d go our separate ways.”
“Is that what you want?” I grit out. “To go our separate ways?” The idea nauseates me.
“No, I don’t want that.” The words are spoken softly, almost under her breath.
“Thank fuck.” I exhale hard, relief flooding through me as I pull her against my chest. “Because I want you by my side when I take over the Bratva. I want you in my bed every night. I want you as my forever.” I cup her face, forcing her to look at me.
We’re about to undertake a dangerous mission and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to say it again.
She needs to understand the depths of my feelings for her.
“I’m in love with you, Dinara. And that’s not going to change no matter what happens. ”
Tears threaten to spill. “I never thought I’d feel this way either. I love you too. So much it scares me.”
The confession guts me. “I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Pavel’s going to lose his mind when we tell him.”
“Good. Let him lose his mind. As long as he understands that you’re my wife, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.” I brush a tear from her cheek. “We’re going to build the life we want. I promise you that.”
I kiss her then, slow and deep, pouring everything I can’t say into the press of my mouth against hers. When we break apart, we’re shaking.
“Are you ready for this meeting?”
She nods, a smile on her lips. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
As we head for the door, I take one last look at the weapons laid out on the table—cleaned, loaded, and ready for tomorrow.